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(UNITED STAfTES OF AMERICA.! 



FATHER'S LETTERS 



TO 



HIS DAUGHTER 



BY ROBERT A. WEST, A. M, 




«f 



PUBLISHED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 

57, 



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1&/X*i 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by the 
American Tract Society, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court 
of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 



"3 04 3 J" 



1 




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CONTENTS. 

Woman *■ - 5 

I. At the Institute - - 9 

II. The earnest inquirer 25 

III. The young convert 40 

IV. Leaving the Institute — 48 

V. Entering upon life 56 

VI. Womanly deportment 68 

VJLL. Public amusements 80 

Vin. Dress - 92 

IX. Acquaintance with Mr. 102 

X. Courtship 113 

XI. Wifehood 125 



A 

FATHER'S LETTERS 

TO 

HIS DAUGHTER. 



r- 



WOMAN. 

Our very (being is woman's advocate; 
our nature hYmns her praises, and all 
our feelings join in the grateful chorus. 
Whenever her name is uttered, touching 
memories and endeared associations and 
hallowed emotions, too big for utterance, 
crowd upon our hearts, peopling its se- 
cret chambers with a great cloud of wit- 
nesses to a mother's tenderness and a 



6 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

mother's care ; recalling sweet recollec- 
tions of a sister's sympathy and a sister's 
confidence, and thronging alike the past, 
the present, and the future with blessed 
conjugal affections — the chastened, but 
still sweet memory, the present bliss and 
the anticipated happiness alike centring 
in hallowed companionship with woman. 

She it is who becomes a watchful prov- 
idence over our helpless infancy, a guar- 
dian angel to our heedless childhood, a 
wise ruler oyer our fretful boyhood? the 
guide and counsellor of our ambitious 
youth -time, and our companion and 
friend during the time of our sojourning 
on earth. 

All honor to woman, loving and wor- 
thy to be beloved. Woman, mysteriously 
sensitive to love's first glance, yet listen- 
ing with tremulous timidity to the ear- 
nest utterances of its impassioned voice. 
Woman, yearning for perpetual and holy 



WOMAN. 7 

companionship with the object of her af- 
fections, yet whispering with a strange 
and mystic dread the vows of a life-long 
unity. Woman, physically feeble, yet 
watching with superhuman perseverance 
through wearisome days and sleepless 
nights by the fevered couch of those she 
loves, Woman, instinctively shrinking 
from the harsher conflicts of life, yet 
when misfortune lays its ruthless hand 
upon him to whom she has vowed her 
heart's allegiance, manifesting heroic 
courage, unflinching nerve, self-sacrific- 
ing toil, and indomitable energy. Wom- 
an, the object of our filial, fraternal, and 
conjugal affections — loving, patient, faith- 
ful, enduring. Woman, when loving, 
braving the world's wrath and the world's 
scorn for the sake of him she loves, and 
for his sake, like clivinest charity, endur- 
ing all things, believing all things, hop- 
ing all things. Woman, as mother, as 



8 



A FATHER'S LETTERS. 



wife, as daughter, as sister, let her be 
everywhere reverenced, and perish the 
sacrilegious dragon who dares to lay an 
impious hand upon the sacred ark of her 
affections. 




AT THE INSTITUTE. 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 

MY DEAE : 

I very cheerfully comply with your 
request to " write you statedly, and on 
such topics as I deem of importance" to 
you. You need have no "fear that I 
shall find the task irksome." On the 
contrary, I am glad that you have pre- 
ferred the request. So long as you at- 
tach value to my counsels, I shall have 
great pleasure in writing to you. Even 
if I loved you less, a sense of parental 
duty would impel me to advise you in 
all things to the best of my ability. 
When I received you from God as his 
precious gift, I solemnly promised to be 
a coworker with him in training you for 
usefulness in time and for happiness in 



10 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

eternity. I have striven to redeem that 
pledge, and already I have my reward. 

I will not conceal from you that in 
your general deportment, in your con- 
scientiousness and love of truth, and in 
your filial affection and dutifulness, your 
dear mother and myself find a rich com- 
pensation for the care and watchfulness 
we have exercised over you. It is right 
that you should know this, and should 
understand that we not only love you as 
our offspring, but that we also esteem you 
for your personal qualities. Both paren- 
tal and filial love are strengthened and 
refined by resting not alone upon natural 
affection, but also on the respect which 
virtue and goodness inspire. You are 
old enough now to appreciate this, and I 
write thus frankly because I think your 
self-respect will be heightened by such 
knowledge, and that by it you will be 
stimulated to seek after yet greater ex- 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 11 

cellence. Grod bless you, my dear daugh- 
ter, and enable you at all times to walk 
in the ways of his commandments blame- 
less. 

With regard to the proposed corre- 
spondence, I must stipulate that you con- 
tinue to give me your full confidence. 
That I have so far possessed it, is to me 
a source of unqualified pleasure. Your 
mother and myself have always striven 
to make each of our children feel that 
we, above all other earthly friends, are 
entitled to this ML trust, and can best 
appreciate and most respect it. You 
will, I feel assured, bear me witness that 
my ear and heart have been ever open 
to the story of your joys and sorrows, 
my tongue ever ready to counsel and my 
hand to help. I know not that, even in 
the prattling days of your early child- [ 
hood, you ever asked me a question that 
I petulantly refused to answer, or ex- 



12 A FATHER'S LETTEES. 

pressed to me a thought or feeling to 
which I did not give affectionate atten- 
tion. In this I have done only what I 
believe to be the duty of every parent. 

Too often, alas, have I seen a young 
child's growing confidence repulsed, and 
its tender trust rudely destroyed, by a 
parent's hasty rebuke of its inquisitive- 
ness or contemptuous laugh at its igno- 
rance. The sensitive-plant shrinks not 
more instantly from the rude touch, than 
does the child's confidence from the sharp 
rebuke or cruel laugh; and filial confi- 
dence soon dies under the repetition of 
the shock. I grieve at the lack of ten- 
derness or the thoughtlessness that thus 
often destroys the sweetest bond of the 
family relationship. A little self-denial 
or self-control on the part of parents 
would prevent this terrible and irrepa- 
rable mischief, and secure a family unity 
that is " better than riches, 7 ' and ■" more 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 13 

to be desired than gold, yea, than much 
fine gold.' 7 God grant that neither fault 
of ours, nor aught else, may ever weaken 
that full trust and confidence in us which 
it has ever been our joy and pride to 
create and foster. 

And while you give to your parents 
an unqualified trust, let me caution you 
to be at present very careful about your 
intimacies elsewhere. Your friendships, 
especially with those of your own age, 
should b% neither hastily formed nor nu- 
merous. You may have many acquaint- 
ances, but you need and should have few 
companions. 

Your new situation will expose you to 
temptation in this respect. Excluded 
for the first time from home associations, 
thrown into daily intercourse with so 
many of your own age and* sex, your 
first impulse will be to admit many into 
your confidence. Resist this impulse. 



14 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

Wait until you have had time and op- 
portunity to study the character of your 
new acquaintances. 

Let your first friends be the worthy 
president of the Institute and his excel- 
lent wife, the latter especially. To a 
great extent they, for the present, take 
the place of your parents. I did not 
confide you to their superintendence and 
care without first satisfying mysglf of 
their intellectual, moral, and religious 
qualifications, as well as of their profes- 
sional abilities. I was even more solic- 
itous about the former than the latter. 
It will be . safe and wise to follow the 

counsels of Mrs. , and she will not 

repel you if you seek her friendship. 
For the present, cultivate the society of 
persons of riper years and greater expe- 
rience than yourself. Indeed I had al- 
most said that that of Mrs. is the 

only friendship you now need. Certainly 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 15 

it is the only one that it will be wise at 
present to seek or solicit. 

Especially avoid any closer acquaint- 
ance than courtesy demands with those 
young ladies around you whose thoughts 
dwell mainly upon vanities and frivoli- 
ties, whose conversation is only of dress 
and fashion, or idle gossip and specula- 
tions about the other sex. At your age, 

my dear , it is better that you should 

have no companionship that will not fos- 
ter the higher qualities of your nature. 
Nor will you have time for many inti- 
macies. 

You have been placed where you are 
with a well-defined object; namely, your 
improvement and maturity in a thorough 
education. This involves expense, cheer- 
fully incurred, but not inconsiderable 
nevertheless. You cannot, nor do I wish 
that you should, repay us in kind; but 
you can recompense us by improving 



16 A FATHER'S LETTEES. 

your advantages to the utmost. To do 
this, you must fortify your mind against 
the waste of time that is too often occa- 
sioned by mere girlish friendships. And 
you require more than time for progress 
in learning. You need the perfect con- 
trol and mastery of your thoughts — the 
power of applying your mental faculties 
at will wholly to your studies. 

Moreover, the habit of caution and 
reflection with reference to your per- 
sonal associations thus early formed, will 
be of incalculable benefit to you here- 
after. Perhaps nothing is to a woman 
so fruitful a source of mortification and 
misery as her liability to be guided by 
her feelings rather than by her judgment 
in forming her friendships. I wish you, 
my dear daughter, to be guided in this, 
as in all other matters, by principle and 
not by impulse, and to study character- 
mental, moral, and religious — before you 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 17 

confer your friendship and your confi- 
dence. 

"Since friends do not grow thick on every bough, 
First on thy friend deliberate with thyself. 
Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, 
Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix. : 
Judge before friendship ; then confide till death." 

With respect to your deportment tow- 
ards other members of the Institute, I 
doubt not you will be well counselled by 

Mrs. and the teachers. Any advice 

of mine must be very general, save on 
one point, on which I must speak explic- 
itly. If in the order of domestic arrange- 
ments you are thrown into association as 
room-mate with any young lady whose 
personal habits or moral qualities are not 
good, have no hesitation about speaking 
to Mrs. on the subject, or to who- 
ever has charge of the matter, and re- 
questing a change of companion. Of 
course I would not have you do this for 



A Father's Letters. 



18 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

light or insufficient cause ; but I must lay 
my earnest request upon you to take that 
step when your judgment tells you that 
the cause is sufficient. Old as the maxim 
is, it is still true that "evil communica- 
tions corrupt good manners ;" and great 
as my confidence in you is, I cannot con- 
sent that you should be exposed for 
months to the influence of such close and 
constant association with any one of un- 
ladylike habits or dull moral perceptions. 
As you will perhaps wonder that I lay 
so much stress upon this point, I will say 
that it is at your mother's special re- 
quest ; and I may here add that, though 
in this correspondence the handwriting 
may be mine, hers will often be the in- 
spiration. She can well appreciate the 
influence of a room-mate upon one of 
your years. 

You can have no rule for the guidance 
of your general deportment so good as 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 19 

the divine rule, " Whatsoever you would 
that others should do unto you, that do 
unto them." This is the sum and essence 
of all true politeness, as well as the sur- 
est path to all true elevation of character. 
Act upon it uniformly ; and if you some- 
times err through imperfection of know- 
ledge in the mere form and technicalities 
of etiquette, you will yet enjoy the con- 
sciousness of having sought to act up to 
the highest standard of duty and good- 
ness. 

Be just to others as well as to your- 
self. To the principals, to your teachers, 
to those who are your superiors in age 
or station, pay unhesitatingly the respect 
which is their due. To your equals be 
affable and courteous. To your inferiors 
be generously civil. You will have little 
to do, I suppose, with the domestics of 
the household; but should you come in 
contact with them, treat them invariably 



20 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

with unassuming kindness. I particu- 
larly wish you to cultivate this disposi- 
tion. I cannot conceive of a Christian 
lady, nay, of a truly refined and tender 
woman— to say nothing of the obligations 
imposed by Christianity — treating with 
harshness those of her own sex who, in 
the providence of God, are appointed to 
a life of labor and privation, and upon 
whom she depends so largely for her do- 
mestic comfort. You have had a better 
example before you. Follow it at all 
times. To the servants of the household, 
I repent, conduct yourself with gracious- 
ness; not with familiarity, for that too 
would be wrong ; but with the kindness 
and consideration that are due to all, and 
which to the toiling domestics are the 
more grateful because too commonly de- 
nied them. Cultivate, in short, a true 
politeness towards all, and you will have 
your reward in your own heart and in 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 21 

the respect and commendation of all 
whose esteem is worth having. 

You will misinterpret what I have said 
about intimacies and friendships, if it leads 
you to stand aloof from the pleasant free- 
dom of social intercourse. Now is the 
time for you to cultivate correct social 

tastes and habits. When you leave 

Institute, you will commence the business 
of life. You will have to take your place 
in the moving and living world. Pre- 
pare to fill it worthily. Accustom your- 
self to such of the usages of society as 
are honorable and right. 

There is one point in which I wish to 
see some improvement in you. Ear- 
nestly and perseveringly aim at greater 
self-control. I know that you are yet 
young, and it may seem almost ungra- 
cious to press upon you just now such 
grave counsel. But if you would reap 
the full benefit of improvement in this 



22 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

respect, it is now that you must learn the 
difficult science of self-government. If 
the lesser joys and sorrows of life are 
permitted unduly to elate or depress 
you, the greater ones will hereafter as- 
suredly have the same effect, even though 
your years may be riper. I want you, 
therefore, now to acquire the habit of 
self-control, so that when you come to 
fill your allotted place in society, you 
may be qualified for it. What will now 
be easy to acquire, because all your sur- 
roundings are favorable, will be difficult 
two or three years hence in the presence 
of increased embarrassments and multi- 
plied duties. Be just to yourself in this 
matter. Labor to acquire greater self- 
possession, so that your bearing shall, 
while modest, be composed and self-reli- 
ant in every society and under all cir- 
cumstances j as far from awkwardness as 
from that unmaidenly boldness wjiich too 



AT THE INSTITUTE. 23 

often at the present day passes for fash- 
ionable ease. Calmness and equanimity 
of carriage will richly repay cultivation. 
They are both useful and ornamental. 

Other counsels I will defer until my 
next letter. But there is one that I must 
neither omit nor postpone. My beloved 
daughter, "Fear God, and work righteous- 
ness." Learning is good, but godliness 
is better. Very, pleasant is the know- 
ledge of your love for me, but my joy 
therein can never be perfect till I know 
that you love G-od with your whole heart. 
You have many advantages, but they 
will be accusing angels at the judgment- 
day unless you use them for God's ser- 
vice and glory. I may give you many 
counsels, but higher and more imperative 
than they all is God's command, " Give 
me thy heart.'' Listen to the voice of 
your Maker and Redeemer, and obey. 
Whatever else you learn, neglect not to 



24 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

familiarize yourself with GrocPs word. 
Other studies may make you wise for 
time ; this shall instruct you for eternity. 
Whatever friendships you form, wed 
your heart to the Saviour. " Acquaint 
now thyself with him, and be at peace." 
Your affectionate father. 




THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 25 



II. 
THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 
MT DEAE : 

Words cannot express the delight 
your letter gave to your mother and 
myself. Grateful tears have testified to 
our joy. God, we trust, is answering 
our prayers on your behalf. I have 
never doubted that, in his own good 
time, he would yield to our importunity. 
Sometimes, in my anxiety for my dear 
child's salvation, I have cried out, "How 
long, Lord, how long? 77 but I have 
never ceased mv intercessions, or with- 
drawn my trust from his promises. 
When I read the language of your poig- 
nant grief — "My heart is breaking be- 
cause of my sinfulness 77 — my soul blessed 
God, for I trust it is to be a "godly sor- 



26 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

row," "not to be repented of." Be as- 
sured that not many minutes passed, after 
reading your letter, before your glad par- 
ents were bowing before God, jointly 
pleading that he would lift upon you the 
light of his reconciled countenance, and 
give you peace and joy in believing. 

Greatly do I rejoice also that you have 
written so frankly and fully of your re- 
ligious experience. I know something 
of human nature, and of the temptations 
of Satan, and how many young people 
have been ensnared into struggling alone 
through the dark hours of conviction of 
sin, when the sympathy and counsel of 
those who have passed through the same 
experience might have led them speedily 
to a knowledge of the truth as it is in 
Christ Jesus. Open your heart with like 
confidence to your heavenly Father, and 
he will not withhold from you his mercy 
and forgiveness. I trust ■ ' the Lord whom 



THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 27 

you seek will suddenly come to his tem- 
ple;" and with his presence will come 
light and peace and joy unspeakable. 

You say that it is M over the sinfulness 
of your heart that you mourn." and that 
M when Grod first gave you a sight of that 
secret chamber of imagery, you were 
struck dumb with amazement and con- 
trition;" but that " afterwards you were 
strongly tempted to qualify the bitter- 
ness of your shame and confusion by 
comparing your general conduct with 
that of others of your own sex whose 
lives were outwardly more faulty." This 
is no uncommon temptation, and has 
been often successfully employed by the 
enemy of souls to lead the true penitent 
away from the cross. You, however, 
have been accustomed from your youth 
to an evangelical and practical ministry, 
and by being thus forewarned, were fore- 
armed against this device of Satan. Con- 



28 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

scious that your heart habitually rebelled 
against the supremacy of Christ, you 
knew that in Grod's sight you were guilty 
and under condemnation. Now, in the 
bitterness of your soul, you exclaim, "0 
wretched one that I am! who shall de- 
liver me from the body of this death ? 77 
You are humbled in the dust by a sense 
of your sinfulness and guilt. I would 
not have you abate one iota of this hu- 
miliation. You are depraved and sinful, 
and in the sight of Grod guilty and un- 
clean. The restraints of domestic train- 
ing and the force- of education have 
moulded your outward character, and 
made it engaging and lovely. But they 
have not changed your heart, which by 
nature is " desperately wicked 77 and at 
" enmity with Grod. 77 However faultless 
your outward life may have been, if un- 
renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit, 
you are still unreconciled to Grod, have 



THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 29 

no sense of his pardoning love and fa- 
vor, and no hold upon eternal life. You 
"must be born again, v or be shut out of 
the kingdom of heaven. Fear not then 
to go down into the valley of humiliation 
just so far as the Spirit of G-od leads you. 
"Out of the depths" you can still cry 
unto God ; and the deeper your distress, 
the more ready will he be to hear your 
cry and deliver you. We are never so 
near a saving faith in Christ as when our 
sense of sinfulness destroys all trust in 
ourselves. 

Let me caution you, my dear , 

against a mistake in the opposite direc- 
tion, of the danger of which I think I see 
some indications in your letter, for you 
say, " Sometimes I am so nearly shut up 
to faith in Christ, that I feel almost ready 
to cast myself upon his atoning mercy. 
But then I am checked by the fear that 
I have not repented long enough and 



30 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

deeply enough." This is only another 
temptation of Satan, but it is one so well 
adapted to your disposition, that I fear 
it may delay the glad hour when you 
shall believe upon the Son of G-od. 

Let me counsel you to put this temp- 
tation away from you. That you may be 
able to do this, bring the feeling into the 
light of Bible truth. You will see that 
it is cruel to yourself and dishonoring 
towards God. Stripped of all sophistry, 
the temptation proposes that you should 
do something to make your repentance 
meritorious, and to propitiate your of- 
fended Maker and Judge. I am sure 
you will shrink from . such a thought. 
Yet this is the real character of the sug- 
gestion. Satan would fain possess your 
mind with the idea that you are to weep 
more, to lament and grieve longer, in 
order to convince the omniscient God 
that you are sincere, and to win him 



THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 31 

over to compassion. Your self-abase- 
ment is to be perverted into a length- 
ened preparation for the welcoming of 
the " Spirit of adoption." I know of no 
scriptural standard by which the inten- 
sity and duration of your repentance are 
to be measured, other than that your 
sorrow is "a godly sorrow/ 7 leading you 
to abhor yourself, and driving you to 
Christ for pardon and regeneration. 

If your penitence is of this sincere and 
genuine kind, there need be no impedi- 
ment to your trust in Christ. But if there 
be some reservation in your loathing of 
sin, some lurking purpose of compromise 
in your abandonment of it, some idol in 
your heart that you are unwilling utterly 
to cast down and destroy, or some trust 
in yourself that is incompatible with the 
Scripture plan of salvation, "By grace 
are ye saved, through faith ; and that not 
of yourselves : it is the gift of G-ocl" — for 



32 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

these reasons, and for these alone, will 
God withhold from you the joys of his 
salvation. 

Examine yourself therefore, my dear 
child, and see whether there be any of 
these hinderances to your acceptance 
with God. Do not be afraid to probe 
your heart to its utmost depths. Fear 
nothing so much as delay in being ad- 
mitted into the family of God and the 
household of heaven, for this is your life. 
Do you " truly and unfeignedly repent 77 
of all your sins? Have you abandoned 
all self-reliance? Have you renounced 
all hope of salvation, save through the 
mercy of God and the atonement of 
Christ ? Then indeed you are " not far 
from the kingdom of heaven. 77 " Believe 
on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt 
be saved. 77 You need do nothing, you 
can do nothing more in order to salva- 
tion. You are on the very threshold of 



THE EAKNEST INQUIRES. 33 

pardon. Knock with the boldness of 
humble faith, and the door shall be 
opened to you. "The word is nigh thee, 
even in thy inou^th and in thy heart, .... 
that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth 
the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thy 
heart that Grod hath raised him from the 
dead, thou shalt be saved." 

The condition is easy. Do not per- 
plex yourself about definitions of faith. 
The faith that will save you is a simple 
trust in Christ as your atonement, as hav- 
ing borne in your stead the penalty due 
to your transgressions. This faith will 
assuredly be given you when your heart 
is emptied of all other trust than Christ 
the Crucified. Be importunate with Grod 
for this blessing. Pray much in secret 
for it. Secret prayer honors Grod. The 
very act of retiring to be " alone with 
Grod" is a declaration of confidence in 
him. It is equivalent to saying, "To 



A Father's Letters. 



34 A FATHER.'S LETTERS. 

thee, my best Friend, I come in my dis- 
tress, to breathe my desires into thy will- 
ing ear. Well I know that in thee only 
is my strength and my salvation, and 
that thon art a friend who cleaveth closer 
than a brother. 7 ' If you are often clos- 
eted with G-od, you cannot help putting 
your trust in him ; and you will carry 
about with you such memories of those 
seasons of divine communion as shall pre- 
serve you daily from frivolity and sin. 
It is in secret prayer also that your heart 
can find the most unrestrained utterings 
of all its yearnings, and where God will 
come down and "commune with you 
from off the mercy-seat, and from be- 
tween the cherubim.' 7 

Be diligent also in attendance upon all 
the public means of grace. I lay little 
stress upon those adventitious aids which 
have come into use, such as the standing 
up in the congregation in solicitation of 



THE EARNEST INQUIRES. 35 

the prayers of God's people, or bowing 
around those who conduct the public ex- 
ercises. I do not, I dare not condemn 
silch proceedings, for undeniably they 
have been owned of G-od. "His ways 
are not our ways/ 7 and he is sovereign. 
11 When he speaks, let all the earth keep 
silence,' 7 and reverently listen. What 
he ordains or approves standeth sure, 
and woe be to him who opposes it. But 
I cannot conceal a misgiving that some 
ministers and congregations are in dan- 
ger of attaching too much importance to 
these measures, and of resorting to them 
habitually — I had almost said mechani- 
cally. Some of the fathers regarded 
them as useful in special cases, and es- 
pecially in breaking the snare which the 
fear of man bringeth. Some of the sons, 
I fear, have almost made them the rule, 
and it is well if many persons have not 
learned to regard them as part of the 



36 A FATHER'S LETTEES. 

condition of salvation. I think it likely, 
my dear , that you will more profit- 
ably wait upon God in the quiet and re- 
serve of your own place in the congrega- 
tion, than by the public demonstrations 
referred to. 

At any rate it is my duty to remind 
you that God respects neither place nor 
attitude, but the state of your heart and 
the sincerity of your worship. "To this 
man will I look, even to him that is poor 
and of a contrite spirit/' In all the means 
of grace, as in secret prayer, draw near 
to God "with a true heart, and in full 
assurance of faith. " Expect to meet the 
Saviour in the sanctuary, and look ever 
for a present blessing. For this you have 
Jehovah's warrant. He is faithful who 
has promised, and he will perform. Take 
him at his word, and you shall be blessed 
indeed. 

I rejoice that your heart yearns for the 



THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 37 

privilege of uniting with the people of 
Glod in communion at the Lord's supper. 
The " table of the Lord" is the fittest 
place for the true and humble penitent. 
I know of no greater help to faith than 
this holy ordinance. What a volume of 
encouragement is there in the touching 
language, "The body of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, which was broken for you;" "The 
blood of Jesus Christ, which was shed for 
you." Oh precious truth ! Oh faith-in- 
spiring language ! And near these visi- 
ble signs and mementos of his sufferings, 
of his "cross and passion on the tree," 
of his great atoning sacrifice, stands the 
invisible Saviour himself, whispering to 
the penitent's troubled heart, "I suffered 
this for you." Be assured that the Re- 
deemer will ever honor those who honor 
him in this ordinance, and "waiteth to 
be gracious" to those who "do this in 
remembrance" of him. There is no pro- 



38 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

hibition of that sacred ordinance to pen- 
itent and believing souls. 

And now, my dear , I must com- 
mend you to God and the word of his 
grace. "Whatsoever things are true, 
whatsoever things are honest, whatso- 
ever things are pure, whatsoever things 
are lovely, whatsoever things are of good 
report ; if there be any virtue, if there 
be any praise, think on these things, . . . 
and the Grod of peace shall be with you." 
Write me as often as inclination prompts 
and opportunity permits. Speak freely 
of your religious feelings. I will recip- 
rocate your confidence. So shall we be 
helpers one of another in our journey 
heavenward. Let there be no conceal- 
ment, no shyness, no reserve between us 
on topics pertaining to our common and 
dearest hopes. 

Some one has said that "a want of 
familiarity between parents and children 



THE EARNEST INQUIRER. 39 

on religious matters, and a constrained 
intercourse between them, are a key to 
the failure of many parents in their ef- 
forts to train up their children in the 
way they should go, as well as a fruitful 
source of infidelity in the child. A want 
of freedom begets a want of confidence 
mutually ; the natural effect of which is 
a loss of religious influence on the one 
part, and of filial trust on the other. 7 ' I 
fear there is much truth in this, though I 
am at a loss to understands^?/ it should 
be thus when genuine religion and fer- 
vent love to (rod fill the parent's heart. 
Let us not fall into this error. May Grod 
speedily lift upon you the smile of his 
favor and make you glad in the day of 
his power, is the prayer of 

Your affectionate father. 



40 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 



III. 

THE YOUNG CONYEKT. 

MY DEAR : 

Heartily do I sympathize with, you m 
your newly found joy. You trust you 
are now a child of God and an heir of 
the promises, having " received the Spirit 
of adoption, whereby you cry, Abba, Fa- 
ther." I do not marvel that you say, "I 
never knew what true happiness was till 
now." And yet you have but begun to 
know the love of G-od which passeth 
knowledge. He who has done this great 
thing for you shall still show you " won- 
drous things out of his law." You shall 
indeed find that "Wisdom's ways are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 
are peace." Hold fast that whereunto 
you have attained, and by the same faith 



THE YOUNG CONVERT. 41 

that brought you salvation, you shall "go 
on to perfection, 77 walking in all the com- 
mandments of the Lord blameless, and 
being kept unspotted from the world. 

I can never tell you, my dear ,* 

how earnestly your parents have prayed 
that this saving change might be wrought 
in you before you were called to leave 

Institute and enter upon the more 

active scenes and duties of life. We had 
no doubt that in every situation you 
would "walk circumspectly, 77 according 
to the most rigid moralist's interpreta- 
tion of the term ; but we were deeply 
solicitous that you should do this not in 
your own strength, or from prudential 
motives alone. We yearned to see you 
acting in all things from religious princi- 
ple ; and we knew that this could only 
have its full power and influence when 
your heart had been renewed in right- 
eousness, and you had learned to value 



42 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

your heavenly Father's approval beyond 
all other things. Henceforth the fear of 
the Lord will be .your guiding-star, and 
filial love to G-od will prompt you ever 
to a holy life and conversation. 

Your welcome letter abounds in those 
expressions of joyous feeling which all 
experience who have passed from death 
unto life, and in pious resolutions which 
evince the intense gratitude of a soul that 
is born anew of the Spirit. Far be it 
from me to damp your joy or abate your 
zeal. But I should wrongfully withhold 
from you the benefit of experience, were 
I not to warn you that the measure of 
your joy will fluctuate, and that it is al- 
ways easier -to resolve than to do. The 
flesh is often reluctant when the spirit 
is willing. Do not misunderstand me. 
There is no need of any abatement of 
your present happiness. Nor will it de- 
crease if in no degree you cast away your 



• THE YOUNG CONVEBT. 48 

confidence. But your history will be un- 
like that of many young converts, if Satan 
does not find means of beguiling you in 
some measure of that precious trust ; and 
if you cease to ' ' live by faith upon the 
Son of God," doubt and sadness will come 
upon you. At the first shadow of a cloud 
over your consciousness of the divine 
favor, examine yourself closely. If you 
are self-convicted of sin either of omis- 
sion or commission, " repent and do your 
first works. 77 In penitence and faith ask 
forgiveness of God. He will not be less 
gracious to the repentant child than he 
was to the penitent rebel. He will par- 
don your transgressions and heal your 
backslidings, and again love you freely; 
for he knoweth our weakness, and the 
subtlety and strength of the tempter. If 
after an honest examination of your heart 
you are not conscious of any departure 
from God, you may be assured that you 



44 A FATHER'S LETTERS. • 

are " tempted of Satan. 77 God does not 
causelessly afflict his children. From 
that assault of the evil one it is your 
privilege to fly to the haven of your 
Saviour's breast. He will hide you in 
the pavilion of his mercy, and give you 
"joy for mourning, and the garment of 
praise for the spirit of heaviness.' 7 

Let me now impress upon your mind 
that the uniform and consistent practice 
of piety requires no small degree of 
watchfulness and firmness, and large 
supplies of the strength that cometh from 
above. Prayer and faith will secure you 
that divine strength, and you shall learn 
what those words mean, "I can do all 
things through Christ, who strengtheneth 
me. 77 Only keep open your access to the 
throne of grace, and your works shall 
glorify God. Be not discouraged if you 
sometimes fail to reach the measure of 
the standard you have set up for your- 



THE YOUNG CONVERT. 45 

self. When you fall short, draw so much 
nearer to the inexhaustible source of all 
grace and wisdom. He will hear your 
prayer^ and will help you to fulfil all 
righteousness. Walk with Christ in 
God, and all will be well ; and constantly 
bear in mind that no works are perfect 
or acceptable to Glod but such as are be- 
gun, continued, and ended in him. Aim 
high. Be in earnest to do the Master's 
will. Prayerfully 

' 4 Labor on at his command, 
And offer all your works to him," 

and the God of peace will dwell with 
you. 

Daily, systematically study your Bible. 
It is no mere rhetoric which declares that 
the Scriptures are "able to make you 
wise unto salvation." For this end were 
they given unto us. This is the function 
of the word of life. In my judgment it 
is more beneficial to meditate thereon 



46 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

and comprehend its sentiment, than to 
commit its language to memory. This 
you may do, however, and not leave the 
other undone. Ponder each verse or 
paragraph, taken in connection with its 
context, until you have thoroughly di- 
gested its teachings and engraven them 
upon your mind. 

Nor would I have you limit your read- 
ing even mainly to the doctrinal and de- 
votional portions. Eemember that u all 
Scripture is given by inspiration of God," 
and is designed for ' ' instruction in right- 
eousness, 7 ' so that the Christian's life may 
be moulded into purity and harmony. 
The Bible, including both the Old and 
the New Testaments, is a treasury of 
sound principles and useful counsels ; and 
whoso walketh by its precepts shall be 
wise and useful here, and hereafter lay 
hold on eternal life. t 

Alas, how little do the present gener- 



THE YOUNG CONVERT. 47 

ation of Christians appreciate the practi- 
cal part of the Scriptures of truth. Study 
and master this part of God's word for 
yourself, its maxims, its proverbs, its 
narratives, its incidental as well as its 
more direct elucidations of principles, 
and apply them in your life. So shall 
you be thoroughly furnished to every 
good word and work. "More to be de- 
sired 77 are these M than gold, yea, than 
much fine gold." 

Your affectionate father. 




48 A FATHER'S LETTERS 



IV. 
LEAVING THE INSTITUTE. 
MY DEAR : 

You have now but a few weeks to 

remain at the Institute. There are 

doubtless too many young ladies who, 
in like circumstances, would impatiently 
count the days and hours that must in- 
tervene before they can be freed from 
educational restraints. They would re- 
lax their studies, and be impatient of the 
still imposed discipline. ' I hope and be- 
lieve better things of you. I trust that 
you will continue diligently to improve 
the advantages you must so soon cease 
to enjoy. You can no more leave your 
present situation with satisfaction to 
yourself without due preparation, than 
you could have satisfactorily entered 



LEAVING THE INSTITUTE. 49 

upon it without preparatory thought and 
study. 

You are about to close an era in your 
life. Take time to survey deliberately 
the three years you have spent under 

Mr. ? s roof. g Ask yourself whether 

you have accomplished all that you pro- 
posed, and that your parents hoped for, 
when you entered the Institute. We 
have no complaint to make, but possibly 
you may be conscious of partial failure. 
If so, be determined to retrieve it while 
the opportunity remains. Look over 
your various branches of study, and 
measure your attainments in them. Buy 
up every moment for improvement in 
those in which you are least proficient. 
All the helps needed are yet within your 
reach. Avail yourself of them to bring 
up arrears, and to confirm yourself in the 
knowledge you have acquired. Be too 
wise to spend your time in dreams of the 

A Father's Letters. 4 



50 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

future. You have to do with the great 
practical present, which will glide away 
from you all too soon. And when you 
have done your best to perfect yourself 
in knowledge and real accomplishments, 
you will still find occasion for regret that 
you have not done better. 

A young acquaintance of yours said 
in my hearing the other day, that she 
" hoped soon to escape from school." I 
trust that you take a more sensible view 

of your approaching departure from 

Institute. You are bidding adieu to 
many personal comforts, to incalculable 
benefits, to freedom from care, to a cor- 
don of favorable circumstances by which, 
with affectionate care on our part, you 
have been surrounded, that you might 
the more easily store your mind with 
knowledge, acquire correct ideas and 
habits, and so be prepared to fight the 
battle of life with honor and success. So 



LEAVING THE INSTITUTE. 51 

far from desiring to " escape " from such 
a fortunate position, you will, I am sure, 
consider the time too short for the work 
you have yet to do, and will scrupulously 
employ the hours that remain in more 
fully fitting yourself for the new phase of 
life on which you are about to enter. 

Strive to confirm yourself in those 
habits which, under the change of social 
condition, will be most advantageous to 

you. A friendly note from Mrs. to 

your dear mother, among other commen- 
dations of you which have gratified us 
much, speaks in warm praise of your 
neatness and exactitude in all things 
personal and domestic. We rejoice at 
this. Such habits closely concern your 
happiness in whatever situation you may 
be placed. They are really invaluable 
to your sex. They save time and money 
and temper. They rank very high among 
the things that promote domestic happi- 



52 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

ness and tranquillity. The unity and 
concord of many a household have died 
out for lack of them. " Order is heav- 
en's first law f and many of the miseries 
and discomforts of earth might be avoid- 
ed by obedience to the apostolic injunc- 
tion, "Let all things be done decently 
and in order." No woman's education 
is complete until she has learned to make 
this precept the rule of her life. 

What I said in a former letter about 
intimacies, I would at this juncture recall 
to your mind. You have my unqualified 
approval, however, let me here say, of 
the intimacy you have formed with Miss 

. Her seniority in years, though 

not great, is one of the points which com- 
mend your choice of her as a friend. Her 
good sense and sound judgment, her 
cheerful yet dignified deportment, her 
clear intellect and vigorous understand- 
ing, her sympathetic nature united with 



LEAVING THE INSTITUTE. 53 

some experience and knowledge of the 
world, lier unpretending self-reliance, and 
her enlightened and genuine piety, are 
qualities that make her friendship of price- 
less value to you at this time. It is very 
gratifying to me, and speaks well for you, 
that you have now her love and confidence. 
Such friends are more precious than 
rubies. I would have you gratefully 
accept and cordially reciprocate her offer 
of correspondence. But I would advise 
you to give no other similar promises. 
You will make an unworthy return for 
her kindness, and violate a strong moral 
obligation, if you are not punctual in your 
correspondence with her. As engage- 
ments grow upon you, it will be difficult 
even to do this, and impossible to do 
more. No doubt you will be pressed 
to enter into correspondence with your 
class-mates and other young ladies of 
your own age. I strongly suspect that 



54 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

in such, exchange of letters you would 
find much labor and but little profit, and 
I advise you to refrain from giving such 
pledges. Of course I do not mean that 
the pleasant associations of the last three 
years are to be ungratefully forgotten, or 
that you should steel your heart against 
the claims and the memories of worthy 
acquaintanceships. It should be a grate- 
ful task to you to exchange friendly senti- 
ments occasionally with those with whom 
you have lived so agreeably. What I 
mean is, that you had better not bind 
yourself by any promises, because you 
may lack the power to fulfil them, and 
the influence of the smallest promise vio- 
lated is both painful and hurtful. 

Let me add, that the change of circum- 
stances that awaits you will necessitate 
a change in your modes of thought and 
in your general demeanor. You will no 
longer be subject to masters and to the 



LEAVING THE INSTITUTE. 55 

formalities which the discipline of aij. 
educational institution renders expedi- 
ent, if not necessary. You will assume 
your position among your peers, and 
mingling with society, will have to speak 
and act upon your own responsibility. 

With girlish frivolities you will have 
to abandon also, at least to a great ex- 
tent, the habit of relying upon others for 
counsel and guidance. For the written 
and unwritten rules of a well-ordered 
institute you will have to substitute your 
own conscience and your own perception 
of what is expedient or becoming. Even 
the counsels of your parents will not al- 
ways be accessible. But your heavenly 
Father will ever be nigh unto you. Look 
to him for counsel and aid. "Lean not 
to thine own understanding; but in all 
thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall 
direct thy paths.' 7 

Your affectionate father. 



56 A FATHER'S LETTERS 



s 



ENTEBING UPON LIFE. 

MY DEAE : 

You have early discovered that 

"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view," 

for you frankly tell me that, in your ef- 
forts to make your future, you "have met 
with more discouragements than you ex- 
pected. 77 Yet during the few weeks you 
spent at home we conversed freely on this 
subject, and I certainly did not spare 
words of affectionate warning. - I sup- 
pose, however, that no young person with 
favorable prospects ever stood at the 
porch of life, as you did three short 
months ago, without falling under the 
spell of that great enchantress the future. 
It is ever thus with my own sex ; and I 
presume that this too buoyant hopeful- 



ENTEKING UPON LIFE. 57 

ness is an attribute of youth, and not a 
peculiarity of sex. I feared, while I 
counselled you, that you would scarcely 
give full credence to all I said experi- 
ence would teach you when you came to 
stand alone in a strange place and among 
strangers, battling for honorable position 
in the world. Yet I could not blame 
you, for I remembered my own incredu- 
lity when similarly counselled. Seen in 
the "'distance," the future seemed so fair 
and promising, that you could not be- 
lieve there was in the world so much of 
calculating selfishness, with so little of 
pure morality, of genial humanity, and 
brotherly love. 

I knew, however, that what your par- 
ents had learned, experience would teach 
you, and that it was a matter in which 
you must take your lessons from that 
schoolmaster. You had to learn how 

m 

literally true are Scripture teachings, 



58 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

and to find out that the world lieth in 
the arms of the wicked one, breathing 
his temper and animated by his spirit, 
But in all this be not discouraged. 
Yours is the " faith that overcometh the 
world. 77 Read often and studiously the 
eleventh chapter of the epistle to the 
Hebrews. Emulate in your degree the 
example of those ancient worthies who, 
having received not the promises, which 
are yours under the new covenant, yet 
endured trials and overcame discourage- 
ments in comparison with which yours 
merit no mention. 

Yet, my dear , I sincerely sym- 
pathize with you. To you the trials you 
name are no light afflictions, and your 
inexperience adds to the poignancy of 
the grief they cause you. But let me 
remind you that you have no right to 
expect from strangers, who have no per- 
sonal interest in you, the delicate regard 



ENTERING UPON LIFE. 59 

for your feelings, the promptness to grat- 
ify your reasonable wishes, the disinter- 
estedness of counsel, the considerate sym- 
pathy you enjoyed under the parental 
roof. The interests of others will clash 
with yours, and you may become the 
subject of jealousies and dislikes, the 
reasons for which you can neither under- 
stand nor suspect. Your motives may 
be maligned, your actions misinterpreted, 
and even your good be evil spoken of. 

These trials are common to the young 
when they leave home and embark upon 
the "wide, wide world. 77 They must be 
valiantly met, firmly grappled with, and 
brought to the sober measurement of 
experience. Examined in the light of 
G-od 7 s word, they will be found to be 
parts of a divinely instituted moral dis- 
cipline by which your character is to be 
formed for time and for eternity. It is 
for you, my dear daughter, to take heed 



60 A FATHEK'S LETTEES. 

that none of these things move you from 
the steadfastness of your faith, or sep- 
arate you from the love of Christ. Then 
shall they "work together for your 
good/ 7 and lead you to put on "the or- 
nament of a meek and quiet spirit, which 
is in the sight of G-od of great price.' 7 

You have a character to establish, as 
well as a worldly position to gain. The 
latter, with your talents and advantages, 
can be acquired by ordinary industry. 
But that excellence of character, of which 
it would grieve me that you should fall 
short, is reached only by a more difficult 
path. Character is not formed by an 
occasional deed, good or bad, but by a 
succession of acts. Habits are character. 
Hence the necessity of constant watch- 
fulness. The uncongeniality, the selfish- 
ness, and even enmity of others, may be 
turned to good account for the maturing 
and perfecting of your character, and 



ENTERING UPON LIFE. 61 

reason teaches and God commands that 
they be put to such use. Especially let 
none of these annoyances ruffle your 
spirit or sour your temper. Carry your- 
self courteously to all, as becomes your 
sex and your religion. Keep a pure 
conscience. Abide faithfully and un- 
flinchingly by principle, and under all 
circumstances maintain inviolate your 
self-respect. . X our opinions you may 
keep in abeyance. It may sometimes 
be expedient to waive your undoubted 
individual rights. But you can never 
sacrifice principle or infringe upon your 
self-respect without loss and dishonor. 
Give way to no supersensitiveness about 
the bearing of those around you. What- 
ever it costs, do right. Your happiness is 
in your own keeping, and none can rob 
you of it if you live in the light of God's 
countenance and walk according to his 
precepts. "Great peace have they who 



62 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

love thy law, and nothing shall offend 
them." 

I recognize, my dear , the consci- 
entiousness of your course with respect 
to going into mixed company. I should 
grieve to see you counted among those 
frivolous young women who are happy 
only amid the whirl and rush of society, 
and who, when thrown upon themselves 
for society, find only unwelcome soli- 
tude. You say that you need time for 
reading, for mental improvement gener- 
ally, for calm reflection, self-examina- 
tion, devotion, and communion with God. 
I concede this, and I would have your 
mind so well stored and disciplined that 
yourself shall always he a companion for 
yourself. I agree with you also in your 
averment that in what is called society 
there is much conversation that tends 
not to godliness or even to edification, 
but is emphatically unprofitable and in- 



ENTERING UPON LIFE. 63 

jurious. But when all this is admitted, 
it will not justify you in standing aloof 
from all the social circles that are acces- 
sible to you. You are to be of use to 
society, as well as to derive pleasure 
from it; and no sensible, well-informed, 
virtuous young woman is without large 
influence for good in whatever circle she 
may move. It is in her- power, probably 
more than of the other sex, to.work social 
reformation, to rebuke folly, and incul- 
cate wisdom. And for the use of this 
talent you. are responsible to your Cre- 
ator. 

I know that some ladies complain that 
gentlemen rarely address them as intel- 
lectual beings, but seem to consider them 
incompetent to converse on grave and 
important topics. I cannot dispute the 
fact, but I am free to say that I do not 
think the blame rests exclusively with 
my own sex. We are by nature solic- 



64: A FATHEE'S LETTEKS. 

itous to ingratiate ourselves with you. 
Except in the case of a certain shallow- 
brained class, we are not incapable of 
discerning when you are pleased ; and if 
light and frivolous conversation has be- 
come the rule with men when conversing 
with women, I fear it is because we have 
found that to be the shortest and most 
direct road to your favor and compan- 
ionship. T^Jie inference is not flattering 
to your sex, but I may speak frankly to 
you, because it is Within the province of 
parental duty, and it can be no offence 
to you for me to speak the truth. It cer- 
tainly is within the power of your sex to 
correct this evil, if you be so minded. 
Teach us that we can onlv be enshrined 
in your good graces when we pay hom- 
age to your intelligence, rather than to 
your vanity; when we challenge you 
to earnest and improving conversation, 
rather than when we seek to amuse you 



ENTEEING UPON LIFE. 65 

by frivolity and badinage — and we shall 
be willing pupils. Of course I would not 
have any lady of your age make a dis- 
play of educational acquirements or men- 
tal power. But I would have you wisely 
employ your talents, and the influence 
which is so potent an attribute of your 
sex, in endeavoring to improve the soci- 
ety into which you are thrown, for this 
I hold to be your duty. God has made 
no individual or class independent of 
others, or self-sufficient for their own 
social happiness. It is by interchange 
that mutual wants are supplied, and such 
interchange can only be effected by social 
intercourse. 

Besides, there are certain desirable 
habits or manners that can only be ac- 
quired by mingling in society, such as 
grace and freedom of deportment, ease 
and readiness in conversation, know- 
ledge of current topics and events, and 

A Father's Letters. K 



66 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

the many other accomplishments which 
heighten a woman's attractiveness and 
influence. 

Nor would I counsel you now to neg- 
lect altogether the society of those of your 
own age. Youth is entitled to the indul- 
gence, within proper limits, of its vivaci- 
ty, its tastes and sympathies ; and so long 
as you keep the fear of the Lord before 
your eyes, you can safely take occasional 
part in the play of refined wit and gen- 
uine mirth. It cannot be expected, nei- 
ther is it to be desired, that young peo- 
ple should always utter grave sentences, 
sage admonitions, and solemn reflections. 
The recreation of pleasant converse is 
needful to soothe the infelicities of life. 
Only we must be careful at the same 
time to maintain the temper becoming 
immortal beings. Because we are weak, 
there is no reason why we should be silly. 
The brow of care may be smoothed with- 



ENTEBING UPON LIFE. 67 

out our overspreading it with the laughter 
of folly. 

But while I make these admissions, I 
would repeat a suggestion I made to you 
some time ago. You will profit most by 
the society of persons older than your- 
self. Their knowledge and experience 
will benefit you largely. ' ! He who walk- 
eth with wise men shall be wise/ 7 says 
Solomon, and the maxim is as applicable 
to the one sex as to the other. The con- 
versation of older people may afford you 
less immediate pleasure, but it will after- 
wards bring you a richer compensation. 
Your affectionate father. 



68 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 



VI. 
WOMANLY DEPORTMENT. 
MY DEAR : 

Your parents have not been unmind- 
ful that this is the anniversary of your 
birthday. We have been with you in 
spirit, blessing in our hearts our absent 
daughter, and wishing you, with all the 
fervor of parental affection, every spirit- 
ual and temporal blessing. I doubt not 
that with the opening day you lifted 
your heart to God in unison with the 
poet's joyful strain : 

" God of my life, to thee 

My cheerful voice I raise ; 
Thy goodness made me be, 

And still prolongs my days : 
I see my natal hour return, 
And bless the day that I teas born. " 

On this anniversary of your natal day, 



WOMANLY DEPORTMENT. 69 

and amid the serious meditations in which. 
I feel assured you have indulged, it has 
doubtless occurred to you, that you should 
now begin earnestly to cultivate the grav- 
er thoughts and occupations of woman- 
hood. In truth, your letters have lately 
indicated that this further development 
of your character is in progress. This is 
well, and I rejoice over it. I should 
have been pained had I seen no greater 
earnestness of purpose, no fuller appre- 
ciation of your responsibilities, and no 
deeper solicitude about worthily filling 
your part in the great drama of active 
life, as you grew in knowledge and in 
years. 

You stand now, my dear , on the 

threshold of womanhood, at the door of 
a temple which Christianity has sanctified 
to all virtuous and ennobling influences. 
I would have you enter, not with abrupt- 
ness and temerity, but with deliberation, 



70 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

calmness, and dignity, carrying with you 
at every step the truly feminine virtues 
of modesty, tenderness, and grace. Nei- 
ther vigor of intellect, nor the accom- 
plishments of education will atone for the 
lack of these. They are as essential to 
the perfection of womanhood as strength 
is to the maturity of manhood. Modesty, 
says a modern writer, is a woman's nat- 
ural safeguard ; a sensitiveness, an intu- 
ition which makes her withdraw herself 
from every thing that has danger in it, 
warning her to shun every thing that is 
hurtful, and ever tending to keep her 
within her own true womanly sphere. 
Tenderness makes a woman promptly 
responsive to all generous and gentle im- 
pulses, giving " quickness to her sympa- 
thies, softness to her judgments, and de- 
votedness to her love, inclining her ever 
to charity rather than to rigor, to mercy 
rather than to severity." Grace is an 



WOMANLY DEPOKTMENT. 71 

instinctive aptitude, a quick sense of 
what is becoming, which inspires wom- 
an's every word and movement with a 
beautiful propriety. These are God's 
gifts to your sex; they are native, not 
acquired ; but they will bear culture, and 
wiil marvellously repay it, yielding a 
bounteous harvest of sincere admiration 
and esteem. They are the vital essence 
of womanhood, giving it all its bloom and 
perfume, and clothing it in irresistible 
influence. 

Bearing these thoughts in mind, you 
will not find it difficult to walk circum- 
spectly in the path that is opening before 
you. Let me, however, warn you that 
there is a spurious modesty abroad at 
the present day, an affectation of a super- 
delicacy and superpurity, which, its high 
pretensions notwithstanding, is but the 
offspring and evidence of a depraved na- 
ture and an impure imagination. There 



72 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

is startling truth in the maxim, and also 
in its converse, "To the pure all things 
are pure. 77 It is a forcible rebuke of 
that affectation of which I speak, and 
which demonstrates the hypocrisy of its 
pretended modesty by its too ready sus- 
picion of fancied detection of indelicacy 
where a really pure mind would see 
none. Indeed these supersensitive wom- 
en overact their part, and thus lay them- 
selves open to suspicion. "Innocence in 
woman needs not the aid of ostentation ; 
like integrity in man, it rests securely 
upon its own consciousness. 77 

A certain degree of reserve will now 
become you. An old divine says, "A 
discreet reserve, like the distance kept 
by royal personages, contributes to main- 
tain the proper deference. 77 Women can 
make their society too cheap, and I would 
not have you fall into that error. Most 
of our pleasures are prized in proportion 



WQMANLY DEPORTMENT. 73 

to the difficulty we experience in ob- 
taining them. Never in society, or even 
in the most familiar conversation with 
friends, so far forget yourself as to de- 
part from that nice decorum of speech, 
manners, and appearance which is ex- 
pected from your sex, especially at your 
age. Sedate manners and a cheerful tem- 
per should mark all your social inter- 
course. " Reverence thyself,' 7 although 
a heathen maxim, is a safe rule, and 
especially so for a woman. She who does 
not reverence herself, must not expect 
others to show her deference. Maintain 
a becoming dignity and reserve, and your 
company will be sought after by the dis- 
creet and virtuous, which is the highest 
compliment that can be paid to your 
sex. 

I do not mean that you are to be girl- 
ishly bashful and shy, or that you are to 
be proud and distant in your social in- 



74 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

tercourse. I do not object to sprightli- 
ness and freedom when governed by good 
sense and chastened by true refinement 
and delicacy. Dulness and insipidity, 
moroseness and rigor, are dead weights 
upon pleasant intercourse. I would have 
you so deport yourself with all gentleness 
and suavity as to win that respectful 
deference which it is the prerogative of 
your sex to receive, and the delight of 
ours worthily to pay. Avoid therefore 
the frivolities of speech and manners 
which are too common with your sex at 
the present day. Levity of deportment, 
however much it may please for a time, 
never wins cordial and permanent es- 
teem. I would a thousand times rather 
see a young woman carry bashfulness 
too far, than that she should pique her- 
self on the freedom of her manners. Un- 
feminine boldness is, I think, one of the 
most marked faults of the present gener- 



WOMANLY DEPOKTMENT. 75 

ation. It has done much to destroy re- 
spect for virtue, and to weaken that influ- 
ence for good which women ought always 
to exert, and were wont to possess. Men, 
it is true, are often dazzled for a while 
by youthful vivacity j but they neverthe- 
less have their hours of sober thought, 
when they look upon women with a clear- 
er eye and a closer inspection than you 
perhaps suppose. At any rate, the maj- 
esty of your sex invariably suffers by too 
great familiarity. "So long as women 
govern themselves, " says one, "by the 
exact rules of prudence and modesty, 
their lustre is like that of the meridian 
sun in its clearness, which, though less 
approachable, is considered more glori- 
ous; but when they decline from this, 
they are like that sun in a cloud, which, 
though more safely gazed upon, is not 
half so bright." 

Remember also, my dear , that to 



76 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

G-od you are responsible for the preser- 
vation, in all its power, of that wonder- 
ful influence over our sex with which he 
has endowed you. This marvellous at- 
tribute of womanhood, and the responsi- 
bilities it involves, cannot be overesti- 
mated. I fear these responsibilities are 
seldom sufficiently appreciated. No doubt 
the influence of the sexes is reciprocal, 
but yours, it can hardly be questioned, is 
immensely the greater. Your power in 
this respect is all but unlimited. "How 
often," observes a writer on this subject, 
"have I seen a company of men who 
were disposed to be riotous, checked 
quickly into decency by the accidental 
entrance of an amiable woman." It is 
by the influence of your sex, and more 
especially when virtue and piety have 
enhanced your power, that men's hearts 
are moulded, that they acquire habits of 
courtesy and urbanity, and that they 



WOMANLY DEPORTMENT. 77 

conceive a disrelish for coarse jests, in- 
delicate language, and violent temper. 
Where you awaken honorable love, your 
sway is almost absolute, for then you can 
guide the wayward, calm the restless, 
and reclaim the erring. 

I would have you set before yourself 
the best standards of feminine excellence. 
Emulate their example. Cultivate every 
noble quality of your sex. Take no part 
in idle gossip, in profitless discourse about 
dress and fashion, but let your conversa- 
tion be as becometh the gospel of Christ. 
Seek the society of women of cheerful 
piety, good sense, and useful lives. Add 
every accomplishment to those you al- 
ready possess. Keep alive your taste 
for domestic occupations. It will here- 
after be worth more to you than great 
riches. A practical knowledge of domes- 
tic affairs and their management, is both 
honorable and profitable to any woman, 



78 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

I care not how great her wealth or how 
high her social position. 

There is but one other subject that I 
need just now counsel you upon. There 
is a saying^ that " princes and young 
women seldom hear the truth. " Flat- 
tery you have often heard, possibly some- 
times not unwillingly. From henceforth 
discountenance and frown it down. Lit- 
tle of the adulation to which young wom- 
en are treated is worth a moment's re- 
gard. The blunt candor of incivility is 
really more entitled to respect and con- 
sideration. The habitual flatterer is 
never to be trusted. In your absence 
he would probably not open his lips to 
defend you if maligned, or in your dis- 
tress have a sympathy to offer you. You 
cannot of course always take umbrage at 
a graceful or well-turned compliment; 
but you can in a thousand ways manifest 
your dislike of mere flattery, and by so 



WOMANLY DEPORTMENT. 



79 



doing yon will raise yourself in the es- 
teem of the wise and good. Let me add, 
what G-od's word and hnman experience 
both teach, " Favor is deceitful, and beau- 
ty is vain ; but a woman that feareth the 
Lord, she shall be praised. " 

Your affectionate father. 




80 A FATHER'S LETTERS 



VII. 

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 

MY DEAK : 

There is probably little difference of 
opinion between us on the subject of 
public places of amusement. Your own 
good sense will be in league with the 
potent influence of early education to 
save you from this snare of the evil one. 
You know that the theatre is no fitting 
place for a young person of your sex, 
keenly sensitive to the least violation of 
that delicacy which should be the rule of 
her life, and her chief ornament and glory. 
Twice or thrice, as you know, have I 
been an unwilling spectator at a theatri- 
cal representation, such as frequenters of 
the theatre deemed moral and unexcep- 
tionable. For myself I marvelled much 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 81 

that husbands could take their wives, 
fathers their daughters, and brothers 
their sisters, to see and hear what was 
done and said by the actors; and still 
more, that any woman of modesty and 
refinement could ever pay a second visit 
to a theatre. Although great elocutional 
excellence is sometimes displayed on the 
stage, and although dramatists have un- 
deniably furnished some of the noblest 
creations of our literature, you will be a 
gainer in every way by adhering to your 
resolution never to enter a theatre. You 
can study the characters the dramatist 
depicts, the sentiments of his plays, and 
the philosophy he inculcates, far better 
in the privacy of your own room than in 
the highest style of stage representation. 
The acting appeals to the eye and ear, 
but not to the intellect, and is accom- 
panied by such associations, and is made 
the vehicle for so much that is profane 



Father's Letters. 



82 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

and indelicate, that the theatre can never 
be a healthful place of resort, for the 
young especially. 

I am free to admit, however, that this 
is not an argument against the principle 
of theatrical representations ; and I think 
that our public teachers and moralists 
have erred in not making a distinction 
between principle and practice in this 
matter. There is no immorality or sin 
per se in dramatizing an epoch in history 
or an event in national or domestic life, 
in putting sentiment or narrative into the 
mouths of historical personages, if the 
language is pure, the sentiment just, and 
the narrative of good tendency. The 
dramatic form of teaching and the per- 
sonation of character have very high 
sanction. There are " sacred " dramas 
as well as profane ; personations and rep- 
resentations which good men approve, as 
well as those which they abhor. The 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 83 

modern Sunday-school exhibitions — the 
display of the children upon the stage, 
their dialogues, their assumption of char- 
acters both in costume and language — are 
in principle the same as theatrical repre- 
sentations; their moral tone, their pur- 
pose, and their accompaniments only 
being different from those of the theatre. 
The charades, which are the source of so 
much amusement and intellectual exer- 
cise in the domestic circle, are of the 
same nature. 

But all this conceded, there remains 
the fact that the play-house is to be 
avoided as you would shun the home of 
the pestilence or the plague. You can- 
not frequent it without taint. Every 
man acquainted with the business man- 
agement of these places, knows that no 
theatre could be profitably conducted 
where a high standard of delicacy and 
morality was adhered to 5 where no pro- 



84 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

fane expression ever fell from the actor's 
lips, where nothing bordering upon im- 
modesty was uttered, and where all the 
associations of the place were pure and 
virtuous. No one can ask stronger evi- 
dence that the theatre throws its influ- 
ence against morality, virtue, and relig- 
ion. It is indeed an institution designed 
for the ungodly, and therefore panders 
to their tastes. 

I am inclined to place dancing in al- 
most the same category as play-going. 
Even though it be pleaded that, under 
certain limitations and regulations, it is 
a healthful exercise, it must also be ad- 
mitted that an hour's brisk walking in 
the open air is worth immeasurably more 
as a promoter of health than a whole 
day's indoor dancing. In sober truth, 
health has few more powerful and insid- 
ious foes than dancing, with its artificial- 
ly heated rooms, its exhausted and per- 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 85 

nicious atmosphere, and its undue excite- 
ment of the whole nervous system. 

There are also insuperable objections 
to promiscuous dancing, on the score of 
morality and delicacy, even apart from 
religious considerations. Promiscuous 
and habitual dancing involves a freedom 
between the sexes which can scarcely 
fail to weaken their mutual respect, and 
to destroy that high-toned deference 
which it is best that our sex should ever 
entertain towards yours. When you 
form one of a "set," you virtually sur- 
render your own sense of what is right 
and decorous ; in other words, you must 
substitute the usages of the dance for the 
dictates of your own judgment. You 
must in your turn take as a partner any 
one whom the others have accepted, or 
be rude to him and them. You may 
thus be thrown into associations that may 
be annoying or even hurtful to you. 



86 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

Other evils follow when dancing once 
becomes a habit. It is a terrible con- 
sumer of time, and of time too that gen- 
erally should be given to rest and sleep. 
You cannot leave your associates until 
dancing has ceased, even if the excite- 
ment of the hour did not disincline you 
so to do. I need not say that late hours 
are the rule with dancing parties. To 
dance too is almost unavoidably to waltz, 
which includes a freedom that no lady 
should permit in a stranger or mere ac- 
quaintance. In a word, dancing becomes 
a dissipation, an injury to health, and a 
sacrifice of feminine propriety and deli- 
cacv. It is therefore an amusement con- 
cerning which you may well earnestly 
pray, "Lead me not into temptation. 77 

With your taste and talent for music, 
I do not think you are required to ab- 
stain from the pleasure it affords; but 
you must hold even this subordinate to 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 87 

the higher claims of your religious pro- 
fession, which binds you to the practice 
of self-denial in every thing your indul- 
gence in which might be perverted into 
a bad example. You will, however, find 
some musical entertainments which you 
can enjoy without giving reasonable 
ground of offence to any. You may not 
waste time on any of these things. Do 
not misunderstand me. I am far from 
thinking that all the time is wasted that 
is spent in recreation. There is a time 
for laughter, as well as for sadness. The 
wise man says, "A merry heart doeth 
good like a medicine.' 7 A proper, that 
is to say, a moderate use of any thing 
which God has given us capacity to en- 
joy healthfully, cannot be an offence in 
his- sight. The eye and the ear have a 
common right with the other senses to a 
share in lawful gratification. 

Connected with this question of amuse- 



88 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

ments and visiting, is another of no slight 
moment. Of course you cannot attend 
and return from such places without 
companions, and as a general thing the 
escort of a gentleman. You have acted 
most commendably in denying yourself 
visits, in themselves desirable, rather 
than accept a gentleman's escort that did 
not include some other lady as well as 
yourself. Until you have sufficient cause 
to regard some one of the opposite sex 
as especially your friend, you will do 
well to adhere to this rule. It will save 
you from many annoyances and unpleas- 
ant criticisms, and greatly raise you in 
the estimation of the worthy of my sex. 

Add to it another wholesome rule of 
conduct : Be chary of accepting from sin- 
gle gentlemen favors that cost money. I 
do not mean that if any young gentleman 
of good means, with whose family you have 
a friendly and intimate acquaintance, in- 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 89 

vites you to attend a lecture, or any other 
proper place of resort, in company with 
himself and his sisters, or other members 
of his family, and politely sends you a 
ticket or offers you a seat in the carriage 
with them, you are to decline the invi- 
tation, or stipulate that you shall bear 
your share of the expenditures. You 
could not do that with politeness, unless 
such attention had become marked or 
burdensome, in which case your good 
sense would prompt you to decline fur- 
ther invitations until the motive of them 
was frankly explained. But when the 
gentleman of a party is a stranger or a 
mere acquaintance, insist modestly but 
firmly on paying your own expenses. 
The usages of good society neither give 
him a right to impose, nor require you 
to accept, pecuniary obligations, and I 
know that you will be respected all the 
more for declining to incur them. 



90 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

One custom prevails in at least one 
large city, and possibly in others, against 
which it cannot be necessary to warn you. 
I have known young ladies who, being 
invited to a party, with a request that 
each would bring a gentleman — an im- 
propriety that cannot be too strongly 
condemned — or having a fancy to attend 
some place of amusement, will summon 
male acquaintances as attendants, and 
expect them t<? provide carriages and 
tickets of admission, if a place of amuse- 
ment is the destination. Of course the 
lady is placed under obligation to the 
gentleman from the moment she enters 
the carriage provided at his expense. 
They are alone, and they return alone, 
at midnight or early morn, from the 
heated concert-room, or excited by the 
dance, if not by the sparkling wine-cup. 
He is conscious of his advantage as well 
as she of her obligation, and is perhaps 



PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. 91 

already meditating its repetition. Is 
this a position in which a young lady, 
self-respecting, delicate, and modest, 
should voluntarily place herself? But I 
fear no such impropriety on your part, 
feeling well assured that you would deem 
any pleasure far too dearly purchased at 
such a sacrifice of self-respect. 

Your affectionate father. 




92 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 



VIII. 
DEESS. 
MY DEAE : 

I fear I am not so competent as yQu 
suppose to advise you on the not unim- 
portant subject of dress. There is one 
at my elbow, however, upon whose judg- 
ment and taste in all such matters you 
have learned to rely, and it will entitle 
the suggestions in this letter to all the 
more respect when I tell you that to a 
great extent I am only her amanuensis. 

But let me first lay down certain ax- 
ioms, the truth of which I think cannot 
be controverted. I will concede that in 
portions of holy writ costly attire and 
ornaments are spoken of without cen- 
sure, and even with commendation. ' ' The 
Spirit of God filled Bezaleel, Aholiab," 



DRESS. 93 

and others, "with wisdom, and under- 
standing, and knowledge, to devise and 
work all manner of curious and cunning 
works of the carver of wood, the cutter 
of stones, the jeweller, the engraver, the 
embroiderer in blue and purple, in scar- 
let and fine linen." The psalmist men- 
tions with approbation the "clothing of 
wrought gold" and "raiment of needle- 
work" of the king's daughter; and in 
the book of Proverbs, the virtuous wom- 
an is commended for "clothing her house- 
hold with scarlet, and herself with silk 
and purple." So that there are circum- 
stances, even allowing something for the 
poetic and figurative character of these 
passages, in which costly attire may be 
made and worn without sin. 

I make this remark that you may see 
that I am no ascetic in this matter. But 
an excessive love of dress is an evil nev- 
ertheless. It is condemned in the Bible, 



94 A FATHEK'S LETTEKS. 

and is sinful in the sight of G-od. It is 
also an indubitable evidence of a weak 
and trivial mind. No young person who 
is a victim of this passion is likely to 
take pleasure in intellectual or religious 
improvement. She who is constantly 
looking into her mirror will have little 
inclination to look into her character. 
She who seeks to captivate by dress will 
have little solicitude about the possession 
of higher qualifications. This miserable 
idol of dress too often swallows up all 
that is solid and rational and praisewor- 
thy. It consumes the precious hours 
that were given for the noblest and most 
valuable purposes. It perverts the ca- 
pacities of nature, the acquirements of 
education, and the bounties of Provi- 
dence, to the low desire of being admired 
for embellishments that imply no merit 
in the wearer, and can confer no honor 
in the eyes of any but the thoughtless 



DBESS. 95 

and vain. And who can describe the 
profusion of expenditure it involves, and 
the painful and pitiful shifts that are 
often necessary to support it; the en- 
croachments on health, the anxieties of 
mind, and the mortification of being dis- 
appointed of conquest or fame ; the ridic- 
ulous and the well-deserved distress to 
which the votaries of dress are some- 
times exposed? Well might St. Paul 
write, " I will . . . that women adorn them- 
selves in modest apparel, with shame- 
facedness and sobriety, not with broid- 
ered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly 
array, but, which becometh women pro- 
fessing godliness, with good works. 57 And 
yet who has not seen, even in professedly 
religious families, such extravagance in 
dress as evinced faith in it as a means of 
securing admiration? 

I could name some baneful fruits of 
this passion for dress, but they would be 



96 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

out of place in a letter to you. Let me 
say, however, that these meretricious 
displays have little or no influence, what- 
ever may be the popular opinion to the 
contrary, with the really worthy of my 
sex, and that many a young man, whose 
companionship would have been a joy 
for life, has been repelled by them. It 
cannot be otherwise. He who would 
make his way honorably through the 
world, knows that economy, personal 
and domestic, is as essential to success 
as industry ; and he will not impede his 
progress, and peril his reputation and 
his domestic peace, by taking into life- 
partnership one whose first and almost 
only care is the costly decoration of her 
own person. Men are not in this matter 
the unreflecting beings too many of your 
sex seem to suppose. Instances not a 
few have I known wherein young men 
have voluntarily and resolutely crushed 



DBESS. 97 

out a rising attachment, because the ob- 
ject of it, on a more intimate acquaint- 
ance, has proved to be a worshipper at 
this shrine. But I have written more 
than I intended on this phase of the sub- 
ject. Let me now give you a few prac- 
tical suggestions that may possibly be of 
service to you. 

Thorough neatness in dress is of far 
more importance than mere fashion or 
costliness. Indeed nothing will atohe for 
slovenliness or untidiness. It is no ex- 
aggeration to say that any young woman, 
however plain her features, attired in a 
thoroughly neat morning dress, will make 
a hundred-fold more agreeable impres- 
sion than the veriest Yenus in costly but 
tawdry or slovenly robes. The one in- 
spires confidence, the other awakens dis- 
trust. The one speaks of an innate self- 
respect as well as of a laudable desire to 
please ; the other tells only of vanity and 



A Father's Letters. 



98 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

insincerity. The true lady is uniformly, 
and from instinct, neat in her apparel; 
as scrupulously so before her household, 
or her domestics only, as when in soci- 
ety ; at early morn, when engaged exclu- 
sively in household employments, as in 
the evening, when entertaining friends. 
The material and the style of her dress 
may be changed, but the principle and 
taste that regulate it are always and uni- 
formly operative. 

Avoid all incongruities of dress. Wear 
always that which best befits the employ- 
ment in which you are engaged. To 
observe this rule with fidelity is to give 
good proof that you are provident and 
thoughtful in those many minor matters 
which make up the character of the wom- 
an whose price is " above rubies ;" of her 
whose rule of life is, "Let ail things be 
done decently and in order. 77 Nothing- 
is more vulgar, more derogatory to the 



DRESS. 99 

female character, than a departure from 
this rule. 

. Dress always in harmony with your 
pecuniary ability and social station ; and 
it is, I scarcely need say, immeasurably 
wiser to place the standard too low, in 
the former regard, than too high. But 
it would no more be proper for you to 
dress like a domestic servant, or a day- 
laborer's wife, than it would be for you 
to rival the wife or daughter of a mill- 
ionaire. Your station in life and your 
liberal education have given you a taste 
and refinement that not only legitimately 
may, but really should, have an influence 
on your mode of attire. You can dress 
genteelly, though you dress ever so plain- 
ly and economically. G-entility and econ- 
omy in this matter are not incompatible. 
They are often closely allied. 

Above all things, bear in mind that 
you have made a public profession of the 



100 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

religion of Christ, and in dress, as in 
every thing else, you are to be governed 
by Christian principles. You are not to 
conform to the fashions and customs of 
the worldly-minded. You cannot con- 
sistently, or with peace to your con- 
science or safety to your soul, be the 
slave of dress and the devotee of fashion. 
Christ and his church have claims upon 
your thoughts and energies and means. 
You cannot live to yourself. You are a 
disciple of the meek and lowly Jesus, 
and must justify your profession. 

I cannot perhaps better conclude these 
counsels than by quoting from an old 
author the following paraphrase of 1 Tim. 
2 : 8-10 : " I would exhort, and even en- 
join Christian women always to dress 
with decency and moderation ; never to 
go beyond their circumstances or to as- 
pire beyond their station, so as to pre- 
clude or hinder works of mercy ; not to 



DKESS. 101 

value themselves on dress, or to despise 
those more meanly habited; in short, 
never to spend too much time or thought 
on the embellishment of the body, but 
always to prefer the graces of the mind, 
modesty, meekness, prudence, piety, with 
all virtuous and charitable occupations, 
all beautiful and useful accomplishments 
suited to their rank and condition. These 
are the chief ornaments of the sex. These 
will render them truly lovely as women, 
and as Christians will more peculiarly 
become them. 77 

Your affectionate father. 



102 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 



IX. 

ACQUAINTANCE WITH ME. . 

MY DEAE : 

Your excessive care to make your 

mention of Mr. appear incidental 

only, while it provoked a smile, warned 
me that your parents must not expect 
always to have your undivided love. It 
suggested to me too the duty of promptly 
performing a duty that from its delicate 
nature I would fain have yet longer post- 
poned, but which involves a subject too 
vitally affecting your future happiness 
and welfare to be omitted from a fa- 
ther's confidential correspondence with 
his daughter. 

To say that it will cost us no pang to 
feel that we have a rival in your affec- 
tions, would be to profess a stoicism we 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH MB. — . 103 

do not feel. On the other hand, to com- 
plain of aught that promotes our child's 
happiness would indicate a selfishness of 
which, I trust, we are incapable. All 
that we ask of you is, that in such an 
important matter as an engagement, you 
will make no decision without the most 
sober reflection, devout and earnest 
prayer for providential guidance, and 
frank communication and consultation 
with us. You will not find that either 
of us has grown sceptical in affairs of the 
heart, while we can give you the benefit 
of some knowledge of men gained by 
experience and observation. I am sure 
I need not say that the tenderest regard 
for your happiness will prompt whatever 
counsels we may give you. The ques- 
tion of parental authority and filial duty 
in such matters need not be raised be- 
tween us. I do not believe that you 
would countenance the attentions of any 



104 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

one against whom we could raise reason- 
able objections, and I am sure we should 
not force upon you an engagement at 
variance with your inclinations. 

You have too much good sense to take 
it for granted, as too many young wom- 
en do, that a pleasant acquaintance and 
friendly intercourse with one of the other 
sex must necessarily lead to courtship 
and marriage. The mixing up of love 
with the ordinary civilities of life has 
wrought serious injury to young people 
of both sexes, for it has in a great de- 
gree closed the avenues to that free in- 
tercommunication and fuller knowledge 
of each other so important to a wise 
choice of a companion for life. But its 
disadvantages are greater to your sex 
than to ours. It is certainly as impor- 
tant to a woman that she marry happily 
as it is to a man, and she should have 
equal opportunities of judging of mental, 






ACQUAINTANCE WITH MR. . 105 

social, moral, and religious qualifications, 
and all the more that the privilege of 
choice is denied to- her. But a know- 
ledge of men can only be obtained by 
association with them. 

In one particular, however, you have 
an advantage which, discreetly used, 
may increase your opportunities of esti- 
mating character rightly. No matter 
how marked a gentleman's attentions to 
you may be, until he makes a formal 
declaration of love, you have a right to 
consider them only as the ordinary cour- 
tesies of society, and you should so con- 
sider them. 

In the case of Mr. — — , your sex's 
quick perception in such matters has 
probably shown you the true state of his 
feelings. You can therefore properly set 
about the careful study of his qualities, 
and inform yourself of his character. Let 
me impress upon you that no true-heart- 



106 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

ed woman will abuse the power that this 
advantage gives you. When she detects 
the rising attachment, she will examine 
closely her own heart, and if satisfied 
that she cannot reciprocate the sentiment, 
will endeavor by her carriage towards 
the gentleman to save him the pain and 
mortification of a useless avowal of his 
suit. She is not worthy the name of 
woman who would lure a man to the 
avowal of a love which she is conscious 
she could not return. But on such points 
your own goodness of heart, and the tact 
natural to your sex, will be better guides 
than any counsel of mine. 

Supposing my conjecture about Mr. 

to be. correct, I assume the matter 

to be just this : You suspect that sooner 
or later he will make you an offer of his 
hand, but the ground of your suspicion 
is yet so indefinite that you do not like 
to acknowledge it even to me. I will 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH MR. . 107 

take the hint, however, and act upon it. 
My first counsel to you is, that you delib- 
erately canvass his merits before your 
affections become entangled and your 
judgment is warped by the compliment 
of a proposal. Do not be afraid of thor- 
oughly analyzing all the elements of his 
character. Ask some friend in whom 
you have confidence to institute inquiries 
respecting his sentiments, habits, pur- 
suits, temper, etc. Put your feelings 
and prospects aside, and form your judg- 
ment and course of action on the merits 
alone. You had better never marry than 
marry unhappily. Keep this in memory, 
for it is true. And it is also true that 
the less solicitude you encourage in that 
direction, the more likely is your path 
to be favorably opened before you.' 

I know but little of Mr. , and 

shall seek to know more. But dismiss- 
ing him or any other individual gentle- 



108 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

man from our thoughts, let me ask of 
you, my dear daughter, to ponder well 
the step you may soon be urged to take. 
When a gentleman proposes marriage to 
you, he asks you to live with him until 
death parts you. You have therefore to 
do mainly not with his public character, 
not with the reputation he has in the 
world, but with what he shows himself 
to be in the privacy of home. It is there, 
and not in society, that you have to live 
with him. Need I tell you that no amount 
of outward show, or of polite attention to 
yourself in public, would compensate for 
the absence of innate worth, for the lack 
of integrity, and of that loving tenderness 
that finds its choicest field in the privacy 
of the domestic hearth ? In my judgment 
the question so commonly asked, "What 
has he T is of immeasurably less impor- 
tance than the one, "What is he?" 
Wealth cannot make the fireside happy 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH ME. . 109 

in the absence of love and virtue. But 
these can make home an Eden where 
there are no riches. Money does aug- 
ment, but it cannot create happiness, and 
especially the happiness of wedded life. 
That rests upon another basis altogether. 
He spoke by inspiration who said, " Bet- 
ter is a little with the fear of the Lord, 
than great treasure and trouble there- 
with. Better is a dinner of herbs where 
love is, than a stalled ox and hatred 
therewith. 77 

The man to whom you could happily 
unite yourself in marriage must have 
such strong sense as to command your 
respect. In the element of mental 
strength he should at least be your equal ; 
it were better that he should be your 
superior. G-od's order is that the wife 
shall have the stronger sense of the hus- 
band to lean upon for counsel and guid- 
ance, as she has his stronger arm to trust 



110 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

in for protection and defence. He should 
also have strong moral principles, so as 
to command your confidence. It is he 
who has to mingle with the world, to 
defy its allurements, to grapple with its 
trials, and to triumph over its tempta- 
tions. You can readily conceive how 
your happiness as his wife would be 
marred could you not send him forth 
every morning assured that whatever 
misfortune might befall him, he would 
return to you at eventide with a spotless 
honor and an untarnished reputation. 

He should possess too a refined and el- 
evated taste. The man so endowed is a 
gentleman at all times, and his presence 
will make home a place of true enjoyment. 
He should have naturally a good temper. 
I will not go so far as to say that "temper 
is every thing, 77 but next to personal re- 
ligion it is the best guarantee for wedded 
happiness. Some have even placed it 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH MR. — — . Ill 

first among the desirable qualities in a 
husband. This I cannot do. I could 
not advise you to marry even a religious 
man whose temper was naturally bad; but 
neither could I counsel you to link your 
life with one who, possessing all the nat- 
ural qualities I have named, yet lacked 
that fear of the Lord which is the instruc- 
tion of wisdom. 

You will notice, my dear , that I 

have said little or nothing about the 
worldly circumstances of the man who 
may seek you in marriage. In truth I 
think that an entirely minor matter. 
Let him be a man of good sense, of sound 
principles and industrious habits, of cor- 
rect and pure tastes, and blessed with a 
kind disposition and a renewed heart, 
and I could unhesitatingly intrust you to 
his care and protection. Encouraged by 
your sympathy and cooperation, such a 
man would " provide things honest in the 



112 A FATHER'S LETTEES. 

sight of all men," and would command a 
respect which riches alone could not se- 
cure for him. Your happiness would be 
safer in his keeping than in that of the 
wealthiest of mortals lacking such quali- 
ties. In this, as in all other matters, 
"lean not to thine own understanding; 
but in all thy ways acknowledge Him, 
and he shall direct thy paths.' 7 So coun- 
sels 

Your affectionate father. 




COURTSHIP. 113 



X. 

COUBTSHIP. 
MT DEAE : 

) Your letter did not surprise me, but 
it delighted me by its tone of implicit 
confidence in your parents, and the com- 
bined delicacy and good sense with which 
you state your views and feelings. Much 
as I love you, nay, because of my deep 
affection for you, I hesitate how to coun- 
sel you, and almost shrink from the task 
now that it confronts me, for I remem- 
ber that the present and the future, the 
temporal and probably the eternal wel- 
fare of my beloved child may hang upon 
the teachings of my pen. 

I deeply regret that it was necessary 
so long to delay a full and explicit an- 
swer, for I can appreciate your anxiety 

A Father's Letters. q 



114 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

and the perplexities of your position 
pending my reply. You have borne the 
suspense in a truly noble and Christlike 
spirit, and my regret has been relieved 
by the consciousness that you would 
rightly divine the reason of my pro- 
tracted silence, and not attribute it to # 
any lack of interest in the subject on 
which you wrote. I am heartily glad 
now to be able to put an end to your 
suspense. 

I have no objection to a closer inti- 
macy with Mr. . From all that I 

have learned respecting him — and I have 
instituted inquiries, as was my duty, in 
other quarters as well as in those to 
which he so frankly referred me — I not 
only can interpose no objection, but am 
heartily glad that one so worthy has 
aspired to your love. The elements of 
his character are good, and he has estab- 
lished a reputation for honesty, industry, 



COURTSHIP. 115 

manly piety, and a happy temper, that 
few at his years have attained to. To 
the further development of these excel- 
lent traits you may largely contribute, 
from the day that you acknowledge to 
him a reciprocity of affection. I like 
especially the candor with which he has 
explained to me his circumstances, pros- 
pects, and views, and the frankness with 
which he has told you what are the lim- 
its of his expectations. In this he has 
not only shown a manly honesty, but has 
paid a compliment to your good sense 
which to you must be pleasing, and to 
me is highly gratifying. Let it be yours, 

my dear , to reciprocate the spirit 

of honorable candor in which he has ap- 
proached you. A man who deals thus 
frankly with the woman of his choice, 
is a hundred-fold more entitled to her 
heart's trust than he who seeks to entan- 
gle her into an engagement by exagger- 



116 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

ating his ability to support her, and con- 
cealing the sterner realities of the future 
from her. The honorable and sincere 
lover will not act upon the principle, 

"What would offend the eye in a good picture, 
The painter casts discreetly into shade." 

It is infinitely better that at the outset 
each should know the worst regarding 
the future, so that it may bring no dis- 
appointment. 

Having thus disabused your mind of 
any fears that my cordial sanction would 
be withheld from your further acquaint- 
ance with Mr. , let me give you such 

counsels at this crisis in your life, for 
such it is, as parental affection suggests 
and observation tells me will be of ser- 
vice to you. 

Make no positive engagement for the 
present. Much reason as I have to ad- 
mire and repose confidence in your friend, 
I cannot be blind to the fact that your 



COURTSHIP. 117 

acquaintance with each other has been 
brief and comparatively slight. Each 
may be very amiable and estimable, and 
yet each may be an unfit life-companion 
for the other. If such, a disqualification 
exists, a more intimate acquaintance may 
reveal it, and it had better be discovered 
before than after a formal engagement 
has been entered into. There will be 
less hesitation about acting on such dis- 
covery if the way of retreat has not been 
barred by such engagement. 

Some gentlemen, who have the most 
honorable intentions, have mistaken 
views of what true honor is ; and if their 
troth has been fully plighted, will be apt, 
in such a contingency, to reason thus: "I 
am disappointed in some important ele- 
ments of her character, and perceive that 
there is not that unity of sentiment be- 
tween us that* I supposed and hoped. 
But our mutual engagement is avowed. 



118 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

I cannot honorably recede, and must 
make the best of it." You will readily 
understand that to make the lest of such 
a state of things is impossible, and that 
such happiness as married life ought to 
yield would elude the pursuit of any two 
persons thus circumstanced. If an en- 
gagement had not been formally entered 
into, there would have been little temp- 
tation to press matters to a marriage that 
either was conscious or even apprehen- 
sive would be without unity. Let it be 
understood between you that for at least 
three months, w r hile you associate more 
frequently and with somewhat less re- 
serve than you have hitherto done, noth- 
ing more serious than friendly acquaint- 
ance shall necessarily result, and that at 
the end of that time either may, without 
offence to the other, decline an affianced 
relation. I cannot help thinking that 
were such a course more generally pur- 



COURTSHIP. 119 

sued by young people, many an unhappy 
marriage would be avoided. 

At the same time I judge it more than 
probable that your future life is to be 

blended with that of Mr. . Even 

were you not both as young as you are, 
I would advise you to be in no hurry to 
exchange irrevocable vows at the hyme- 
neal altar. In my judgment the instances 
are rare in which courtship can be wisely 
dispensed with. When strangers marry, 
the chances for happiness are slight in- 
deed. A great deal has been said about 
the pleasurable emotions incident to 
courtship, and far too little respecting 
its uses. It is a discipline, a schooling 
for married life, moulding the hearts of 
both into that mystic union which in mar- 
riage is the "bond of perfectness," fos- 
tering and sanctioning tender confi- 
dences, revealing and modifying the 
minuter traits of character, so that one- 



120 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

ness of soul shall grow and mature, and 
the neck of each be prepared for the 
yoke that they must for a lifetime bear 
together. 

With respect to your behavior tow- 
ards Mr. when you are formally 

betrothed to each other, it is not possible 
for me to give you more than general 
counsels. Your first care must be to 
acquaint yourself thoroughly with the 
less conspicuous elements of his charac- 
ter, and especially with the measure of 
his sensibility, which latter must largely 
regulate your deportment towards him. 
From the tone of his letter to me, and 
from what is said by those who know him 
well, I judge him to be of a confiding, 
sympathetic, generous nature, and there- 
fore as sensitive as a healthy mind can 
be. Your relation to him will make it 
your duty cordially to reciprocate his 
confidence, and to avoid every thing that 



COURTSHIP. 121 

might tend to chill the warmth of his 
affection. If unhappily any misunder- 



standing ever arises between you, do 
not let a false pride prevent you from 
promptly aiding in removing it. If he 
is worthy of your love, he is worthy also 
of your fullest candor and tenderest trust. 
Be as ready to give as to ask explana- 
tions that may be needful or even desir- 
able. 

As you value your mutual happiness, 
avoid lovers 1 quarrels. Some profess to 
make light of these. I entreat you not 
to fall into that error. Trae love, though 
strong and enduring if wisely and gener- 
ously cultivated, is nevertheless a plant 
of rare delicacy and sensitiveness, that 
can be killed by repeated changes of 
temperature, by a series of sudden chills, 
as surely as though uprooted by a sud- 
den tornado. Be as ready to yield as 
to exact those small concessions which 



122 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

prevent disputation and promote mutual 
kindness and affability. Do not yourself 
be quick to take umbrage. You cannot 
suppose that Mr. would intention- 
ally grieve or offend you. The moment 
you can suppose that of him, true confi- 
dence has ceased, and you and he had 
better thenceforward walk in separate 
paths. But this is not likely to be the 
case, and it involves no sacrifice of wom- 
anly dignity or independence on your 
part to assume the absence of all inten- 
tion to annoy or displease you, and to be 
first, if need be, to brush away every ob- 
stacle to the most perfect mutual good 
understanding. Especially from the hour 
of your betrothal avoid any thing like 
flirtation or undue familiarity with other 
gentlemen. I cannot conceive how an 
honorable and truthful suitor can be more 
keenly and deeply wounded than by such 
forgetfulness or non-appreciation on the 



COUETSHIP. 123 

part of his betrothed of the relationship 
she sustains towards him. But I need 
not say more on this point to you. 

Nor indeed need I counsel you much 
further on the subject of this letter. 

When you have given Mr. your 

promise to become his wife, it will be 
alike your duty and your pleasure to 
cultivate esteem and love for him in your 
heart, and to familiarize yourself with 
the thought that your future destiny is 
to be inseparably linked with his "in 
weal or woe, in gloom or glee. 77 In your 
intercourse with him you will regard 
him as your future husband, nor conceal 
wholly from him the love you bear him. 
In all this, however, you must be careful 
to maintain a just maidenly reserve and 
a true feminine delicacy, which will 
heighten his esteem and affection. Nor 
may you forget that even the pleasura- 
ble months of courtship are to be sane- 



124 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

tified by prayer and watchfulness, and 
improved by religious conversation. You 
are to be helpers of each other in all 
righteousness as well now as hereafter, 
and to act ever on the principle that no 
intercourse is so profitable and so sweet 
as that which is seasoned by the fear of 
God and the blessed consciousness of his 
approval. And this may you ever enjoy. 
Your affectionate father. 




WIFEHOOD. 125 



XI. 
WIFEHOOD. 
MY DEAE : 

I have somewhat delayed this letter 
in order that its counsels may be fresh 
in your remembrance when you enter 
upon your new and inexpressibly impor- 
tant relation of wife. I need not say 
that your approaching marriage occupies 
much of my thoughts and occasions me 
no little solicitude. I know well that he 
to whose care I shall surrender you is in 
every way worthy of the trust, and that 
both love and duty will prompt him to 
fulfil the solemn vows that in marriage 
he will take upon himself. Yet it is no 
slight or easy thing to step down per- 
manently into the second place in your 
affections and allegiance, and to transfer 



126 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

to another's keeping the present and fu- 
ture welfare of a cherished and beloved 
child. But I bow to what I believe to 
be in the order of Grod's providence and 
for your happiness ; and although it costs 
me a pang, I will say to you that, next 
to your God, your first allegiance and 
the first place in your affections will be 
due to your husband. You may not 
cease to " honor your father and your 
mother/' for the divine Lawgiver has 
made that duty of perpetual obligation ; 
but your duty as a daughter will be 
subordinate to your duty as a wife, for 
this also is divinely ordained, and I 
should be doing a wrong to your hus- 
band and an injury to yourself were I to 
teach you any other doctrine. You may 
therefore start in married life with the 
knowledge that your parents, while not 
loving you a whit less tenderly than 
heretofore, fully recognize and concur in 



WIFEHOOD. 127 

your changed relation towards them, and 
desire, for the sake of your happiness, 
that your first care shall be to please 
him to whom, "for better, for worse/ 7 
you are to be joined until death severs 
the bond of your union. 

You have too much good sense to ex- 
pect unmingled bliss even in your mar- 
riage with Mr. , and I am unwilling 

to cast a shade over the future by any 
prolonged moralizing upon the uncer- 
tainty of human felicity. Indeed I be- 
lieve that you will realize more than the 
usual share of happiness in your new 
relation and sphere. I see no reason 
why you should not. Some trials of 
your mutual affection, some occasions on 
which there must be reciprocal forbear- 
ance, if you would preserve the even 
flow of the stream of your wedded bliss, 
you must expect Whenever such occa- 
sion arises, let it be your first care, so 



128 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

far as in you lies, to have the disturbing 
cause totally removed. I advised this 
as the wisest and best course during the 
days of your engagement. It will now 
become both your duty and^your inter- 
est. No concession can be too great, no 
submission too complete, that dispels the 
shadow that falls upon your married life 
and thrusts itself between your husband 
and yourself. 

Especially do I urge upon you to begin 
aright in your new sphere of duty. A 
good beginning rarely fails to make a 
good ending. From the hour that you 
become a wife, step into the full dignity 
and responsibility of wifehood. Hence- 
forth you will have done with all the 
lighter habits and tastes of the unmar- 
ried woman, for you will have become 
your husband's helpmate in the serious 
work of life. It is well for you that your 
excellent mother's teaching and example 



WIFEHOOD. 129 

have taught you familiarity with domes- 
tic affairs, for undeniably your husband's 
comfort and happiness, and yours by 
inseparable consequence, will depend 
largely upon your disposition and ability 
wisely to rule and direct your household 
concerns. Your house will be a home, 
an Eden, in proportion as you infuse 
order and harmony throughout its vari- 
ous departments ; and thus will you se- 
cure the confidence of your husband and 
the respect of all. 

I need not here define your religious 
obligations to your household. On that 
subject you have had "line upon line, 
and precept upon precept. 77 Your hus- 
band and yourself hav e, well determined 
that from the day you enter your new 
domicile it shall be sanctified unto G-od. 
My counsels now have reference exclu- 
sively to your conjugal and domestic re- 
lations, and I want you to be well con- 

A Father's Letters. 9 



130 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

vinced that it is of vital importance that 
you promptly make your authority and 
influence felt under your own roof. Es- 
tablish at the beginning order and regu- 
larity in every department. This will 
save you many annoyances, and make 
household duty easy in the future. You 
are bo and to do this as much for your 
dear husband's comfort, as from your 
own love of order. Therefore, with all 
your system, let there be no frost-work 
of needless preciseness cast over his 
home, for few things are more repulsive 
to a man of a generous nature and do- 
mestic affections and habits. 

When your husband seeks his home, 
after toiling all day for your comfort, he 
has a right to expect that Ms comfort 
shall in turn be studied. While his love 
for you will make him careful not to 
weaken your authority or needlessly de- 
range your plans, you must not seek to 



WIFEHOOD. 131 

bind him to the rigid observance of the 
"rules and regulations " of your house. 
Such rules are made to promote his 
comfort, and not to govern his actions. 
Home should ever be to him a place of 
relaxation and enjoyment, otherwise he 
will at least be under the temptation to 
seek them elsewhere. He will expect, 
and has a right to be off duty when he 
returns to his own house and fireside. 
It will be your province to see that he 
realizes these expectations by having his 
home always ready for his glad and wel- 
come reception. This will be your equiv- 
alent for his industry and toil to provide 
you with all needful comforts. 

Some one has truly said that "a hus- 
band owes his wife no duty that does not 
involve a duty from her/ 7 a truth that I 
would not have you forget. If you wish 
your husband to love his home beyond 
all other places, make it of all places the 



132 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

most attractive to him ; and it would be 
strange indeed if, with your vantage- 
ground as the woman of his heart's 
choice, you could not outstrip all rivals 
in this respect. Competitors for your 
husband's society there will be, but you 
will have the start of them, and can out- 
bid them if you will. Your husband will 
love you as he loves none other. A 
smile from you, a kiss of welcome, a word 
of cheer, the little attentions that you 
lovingly pay, the pleasant and gracious 
reception of his friends — these and a 
thousand other things that your heart 
will suggest, will be infinitely more po- 
tent than all outside attractions. In 
sober truth, these will have little or no 
influence over him until you have, in 
some degree, first chilled and alienated 
him by the coldness or indifference of 
your reception of him, or have repelled 
him by domestic discomfort. 



WIFEHOOD. 133 

But not only, my dear , must you 

study to make home pleasant and attract- 
ive,' but to make yourself in person and 
mind ever agreeable to your husband. I 
know of no more common mistake, of no 
error more fatal to the perpetuity of con- 
jugal happiness, into which young wives 
fall, than that of becoming careless about 
dress and personal attractiveness gener- 
ally, because " only their husbands" are 
expected to see them. They thus wrong 
their husbands, and themselves yet more. 
To no man should a wife desire to look 
so attractive and charming as to her hus- 
band. And every married woman would 
do well to bear in mind, that if "only her 
husband" sees her in her negligence and 
slovenliness, she is probably the only 
woman whom he sees thus unattractive, 
for no other lady will permit herself to 
be seen by him in like untidiness. As 
you would dress — that is, with equal care 



134 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

and neatness — to sit down to your first 
breakfast-table as a wife, or to receive 
your husband on his first evening's re- 
turn from business, so attire yourself at 
all future times. You will thus promote 
your self-respect, honor your husband, 
and retain his admiration, which ought 
to be your ambition, and will be an un- 
failing source of happiness. 

And while preserving carefully the 
graces of your person, be at least equally 
careful to add to the graces of your mind. 
Your husband, by his intercourse with 
the world, his intercommunion with men 
and affairs, will inevitably almost, and 
without effort on his part, be constantly 
adding to his stores of general informa- 
tion. On the other hand, your domestic 
pursuits and comparative seclusion will 
be unfavorable to the acquisition of the 
same class of knowledge. But you will 
have time for reading and mental im- 



WIFEHOOD. 135 

provement. Improve your opportunities 
conscientiously. Retain all the know- 
ledge you have acquired, and systemat- 
ically add to your stores. Do not think 
because you are established in life, and 
have matter-of-fact household and wifely 
duties to perform, you may neglect men- 
tal improvement, and allow the field of 
your mind to run waste. You are to be 
your husband's companion in an intellec- 
tual sense as well as in others ; and this 
you cannot be unless you keep pace with 
him in mental improvement, though you 
gather knowledge from different fields. 
Be prepared to reciprocate the pleasure 
you will derive from the information he 
may impart, by enriching him from your 
own stores of thought and sentiment. If 
you perseveringly aim at this, your hus- 
band will never have to seek intellectual 
companionship elsewhere, and thus you 
will place another golden chain upon his 



136 A FATHER'S LETTERS. 

affections. Perhaps I may judge too 
favorably of my sex, but I truly believe 
that no intelligent and affectionate wife, 
sincerely solicitous and careful to hold a 
legitimate sway over her husband, need 
have to complain that her hopes are un- 
realized. 

Many other counsels occur to me, but I 
would not burden you with them at such 
a time. Much must be left, and I can 
cheerfully leave it to your own healthy 
perception of duty and the promptings 
of love. Briefly, "let love between you 
be without dissimulation." Be scrupu- 
lously honest with your husband in ev- 
ery thing. Have no confidences that he 
cannot share, no concealments from him 
whatever. Be ever kindly affectionate to 
him. Sometimes the cares, the perplex- 
ities, the undefinable unpleasantnesses of 
business, may send him home with cloud- 
ed brow and possibly with ruffled temper. 



WIFEHOOD. 137 

Never let the cloud be reflected from 
your own face. With unostentatious af- 
fection wait until the sweet influences of 
love and home have had time to assert 
their gentle sway, and then your wel- 
come sympathy will come in to. soothe 
the chafed spirit and dispel the cloud. 
God bless you, my beloved child; and 
if, which I cannot doubt, you prove as 
loving and dutiful a wife as you have 
been a daughter, blessed will he be who 
takes you to his bosom and his home. 
Your affectionate father. 




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The rewards of honesty. 122 pp. 18mo. 

THE ROCKET. 

The story of the self-made George Stephenson of Eng- 
land. 118 pp. 18ma 

MACKEREL WILL. 

The reclaimed children. 116 pp. 18mo. 

AMY'S NEW HOME. 

Trust in God our safety in trials. 112 pp. 18mo. 

TRAMPS IN NEW YORK. 

Lively and instructive sketches of institutions and scenes 
in a great city. 104 pp. 18mo. 

STEPS UP THE LADDER, 

Or the Will and the Way. 103 pp. 18mo. 

THE FLOWER-BOY OF THE PRAIRIE. 

Benny of the West rising from poverty to be a success- 
ful merchant. 102 pp. 18mo. 

GRACE ABBOTT, 

Or the Sunday Tea-party. 95 pp. 18mOi 

THE YOUNG HOP-PICKERS. 

Successful Christian effort for the neglected. 85 pp. 
18mo. 

The above, with about three hundred other volumes of 
great value and attraction for children, 

ARE ISSUED BY THE 

150 JVassau-street, NfEW YORK; 40 Cornhill, BOS- 
TON; 1210 Chestnut-st., PHILADELPHIA; 75 State- 
st., ROCHESTER; 163 Walnut-st., CINCINNATI; 
170 Clark-st., CHIGAGO; 9 South-Fifth-st., ST. 
LOUIS; 73 West-Fayette-st., BALTIMORE, and by 
Booksellers in the principal Cities and Towns. 



BY A FAVORITE AMERICAN AUTHORESS. 

» ♦ 4 

IN LARGE, CLEAR TYPE, FINELY ILLUSTRATED, AND OF 
GREAT INTEREST. 

"CHEERILY, CHEERILY." 

The straggles and triumphs of a widow and her children. 
205 pp. 18mo. 

THE BLUE FLAG, 

Or the Sailor's Home ; very attractive. 200 pp. 18mo. 

THE BOY-PATRIOT. 

A charming book for boys. 180 pp. 18mo. 

EMILY AND UNCLE HANSE. 
The power of Christian love in an adopted child. 150 pp. 
18mo. 

AMY AND HER BROTHERS. 

The rich reward of love and labor united. 149 pp. 18mo„ 

KELLY NASH. 
The boy who ' ' didn't care. " 138 pp. 18mov 

HANNAH'S PATH. 
How love clears up life's pathway. 118 pp. 18mo. 

THE WOODMAN'S NANNETTE. 
A touching story of a deaf mute. 110 pp. 18mo. 

BUSTER AND BABY JIM. 

Hope for the perishing. 109 pp. 18mo. 

THE FISHERMAN'S BOY. 

The stammerer taught of God. 101 pp. 18mo. 

THE PROMISED ONE, 

A.S revealed in the Old Testament. 63 pp. square form. 

STRANGERS IN GREENLAND. 

The missionary family and Dr. Kane. 56 pp. square 



Storks tax cpww, wsila $IMraiefc 

SQUARE SIZE. 



£\x%\ Soot^U^B in tlje fiOag of UnotoUftge. 

Beautiful lessons for young children. 

CHILD'S HISTORY OF THE APOSTLE PAUL, 

By the author of "That Sweet Story of Old;" embodying 
the great outlines of his life, teachings, and labors, in a 
manner adapted to the young. 

SKETCHES FROM THE HISTORY OF JERICHO. 
In illustration of the power of faith. By an accomplished 
lady. 

Strangers in (Bxccnlaxxb. 

Depicting the adventures of Dr. Kane, and the greater 
courage and patience of the first Danish missionary, and 
his heroic wife Ann Egede. By a favorite authoress. 

BETHLEHEM AND HER CHILDREN. 

Containing the Grave at Bethlehem, the Bride, the King, 
and the Babe of Bethlehem. With colored frontispiece. 

THE MORNING STAR, 

Or, Stories about the Childhood of Jesus. 
Colored frontispiece. 

EASY LESSONS FOR THE LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 
Colored frontispiece, and other engravings. 

"THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD;" 

Or, the History of Jesus. 
Colored frontispiece. 

Joseph and his Brethren. 

Colored frontispiece. 

PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

And for sale at its Depositories, 150 Nassau-st., New York ; 
40 Cornhill, Boston; 1210 Chest mit-st., Philadelphia ; Bal- 
timore, Kochester, and Cincinnati. 



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